


Not A Missing Persons Case

by DaylilyAntares



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Stanley Parable
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Statement Fic, and exited the parable with stanley, essentially this is my version of the narrator, extensive headcanons in regards to the stanley parable, extensive narrator origin headcanons, he is giving a statement, its also basically g rated? theres a curse word and its kind of weird and existential, mentions the entities, spoilers for season 2 endingish?, this is after he has "become a person", this takes place in weird time limbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaylilyAntares/pseuds/DaylilyAntares
Summary: Statement by the Narrator, regarding himself and his experience living. Recorded direct from subject. (precise date unknown)
Relationships: (mentioned) - Relationship, The Narrator/Stanley (The Stanley Parable)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 105





	Not A Missing Persons Case

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think this is my best work but i wanted to write this? i hope it's a decent read. he says a lot about basically nothing at all but it's not unusual for him to be so vague and nonspecific

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

You can write it down, if you want-

NARRATOR

No no, I'm far more accustomed to talking.

ARCHIVIST

No problem. ...Alright then, shall we...?

NARRATOR

Begin? Yes of course, do your thing.

ARCHIVIST

_(clears throat)_ Statement of... Nate, regarding himself and his experience living. Sound about right?

NARRATOR

Oh yes, you're doing fine.

ARCHIVIST

...Right. Statement recorded direct from subject, [DATE LOST], Statement begins.

NARRATOR (STATEMENT)

This is the story of- well, that's not quite right. I'll assume you want me to start from the beginning, a proper story- that's my specialty anyways. The interesting thing is, that my story begins at the end of another story, and even then my story goes back before that story began, to the end of another story entirely that is long lost.

That must be confusing- I'll start at what we can call the beginning of the matter. I have only been human for maybe a year or so. Time passes differently here- but that's what I think. I've always been bad with dates- I haven't needed to keep track of them until a year ago.

Yes, I'm a human being now. But not really, even now, some would say. I have no birthday, no parents, I was never born out of a gross, human... sack, or whatever- womb- I was never born at all. If I had to say I have a birthday, I would say I was born only a year ago, fully grown, so to speak, and my parent was a building in New York City. I'm not from the United Kingdom- which is funny because of my accent, that I apparently have- But that's what I know.

I'm not a person. I caused quite a stir once, I actually went to the DMV to ask for a birth certificate- my Stanley had to come pick me up, they thought I was a lunatic! I didn't know it was... odd, to ask for a birth-date, and if I could see a zodiac chart to pick a date that matched one I thought fit best.

Right. I'm sure many of your stories, or statements or whatever have related tangents- but I'll try to get to the point. The fact of the matter is that it isn't normal to become a human out of nowhere, who's closest thing to a parent would be a building, with no fingerprints or dental records or comprehensible DNA. And not much else about me is exactly normal either. I didn't come to the UK just to record a statement, but I heard about this place and thought I could tell you something you don't hear much, you know? Something interesting, to feed off of.

Right, I do have other things as well, going on... From what I've gathered just from being here, really, is that this place is enchanted. Cursed? Something. And it feels comfortable. You'd call it the Eye or the Beholding- I think I used to be far closer to it than I am now, but I still touch it all the time. I know things, a lot of things very quickly, from absolutely nothing.

Looking at you- you seem a little surprised, but- I can tell your name is Jonathan Sims, that you can't drive without your glasses, that you've gone through a lot of horrible things, and you aren't done going through those things in the slightest- I can't explain how I know so much, but it's consistently been a bit of a problem, in this real world full of people. It wasn't always a problem, though. I suppose that's a decent segue into another part of my story- Stanley's story.

Stanley is my... it's complicated, we're... together- but back then it was simpler, in the beginning, because I was the Narrator, and he was my Stanley. The protagonist. He was there to go through my story, see it through to the end and all the endings to it there were, over and over and over. I lived only to narrate Stanley, and I was very good at it. We were in that abandoned building in the City, I couldn't tell you what it was called or where it was- but we were in there in the sense that, when we left, those were the doors we came out of.

I know it was actually separate from the world entirely. Likely outside of time as well, because time moved differently inside and out as far as I know. I later found out that Stanley had gone missing from this real world, when he became my protagonist, and we spent at least over a year together- if you go by how many days had passed- but he'd only been missing two or three months. Again, I'm rather bad with time, so those are loose estimates. Right- the story.

I was the Narrator and Stanley was the protagonist. The story I had been narrating, I had been working on for a while, maybe several decades? hard to tell. But time passed oddly, and I got to not only write the story, but carefully turn the little space we had into a sprawling office for him to explore! So many different things to touch and turn on, doors that opened and doors that didn't, everything a setting needed to have a proper ghost of realism, make it feel like it used to be a bustling place people actually worked, when... It had only ever been me, before Stanley.

I can't tell you how long I existed before Stanley. I can't remember how I got there, how I was created, when, or what I was. There are some things I've been picking apart, though- And I think you'll find them interesting- of what might've been me, many, many years ago. I'm not one of them- the NotThem- that's what you call them, isn't it? That can be confirmed by how I haven't replaced someone- I appeared out of nowhere without an identity. Of course, you don't need to believe me, because I know I'm not. But I've done some research, based off my own... distant recollections.

I'd always thought there was no way I could've been a person. I'd never been a person. I still believe that- but I don't think I'd be real, at all, if not for someone else, who disappeared. I had always wondered. I almost remembered having a daughter, you know. A distant thought. A lovely little girl. I didn't know what she looked like or her name. But it did give me something to start with. I thought- I thought I remembered her mother as well. But I don't. All I know is that there was a mother. And a daughter. Looking at my own apparent accent, I thought he would've been from the United Kingdom. So I narrowed it down there. Someone who went missing, someone who had a wife and daughter.

I looked back through culture to see what I recognized. I lacked awareness of a lot of modern technology and music when I became a person, but found myself drawn to certain eras. It was easier to narrow down when I realized, I had a memory of a prime minister. I matched the name with his time in office, and I had my years. After some digging- once I understood how to use the internet properly, which didn't take long- I'm not stupid- I found who I was looking for.

I'm not going to tell you his name. I have a picture of him for you. If you look at him and me, there's very little resemblance. But both of us have glasses, at least. I might've retained that from the beginning. But not his memories, his mind, anything like that. That's actually why I'm in the UK. I've come to talk to his granddaughter. I already know, I'm not going to remember her. But she's going to look like her mother, and seeing her is going to feel very...

I should be grateful I don't remember anything. His wife died giving birth to his daughter. He went missing on a visit to family in America, in New York City. The same place where the building I came out of was. I do feel bad for his family. They'll never know what really happened- of course I couldn't tell them, I don't remember it. But his daughter loved him deeply, and missed him. I've made peace with the reality of myself, what I came from, that I'll never remember any of it. I don't mind- there is no sentimental value to the poor fellow. Nothing more than pity, and... some gratefulness. If not for him, I wouldn't exist to have my story and my Stanley.

Ah, yes- I was talking about my abilities in this world as a human person, how I know things without trying. Sometimes it manifests in unintended exclamations- telling a cashier congratulations, because I see they'll be receiving an acceptance letter in the mail the next day. Or telling someone, unprompted, that they'll find someone new, because I know- however it is I know- that they're soon going to be broken up with. Other times, it's less forgettable- I've had breakdowns, usually in crowds, in public, where I suddenly know so much about so many people around me that I can't take it. Their own turmoil and emotional experiences overwhelm me into a fit. I collapse on the ground, really it's almost like a seizure. I certainly can't help it. I've figured out why it happens, though, when it never did before. When I wasn't a person, the only person I had to receive information from was Stanley. I was always saying aloud what Stanley thought, what he was doing, all of that. But when I'm around too many people... it's much harder to handle so much from so many people. It's much easier to just focus on one person.

Oh, and the Compelling business, you do that. I think I do something similar- or at least did. It still works now but I rarely do it and it can be resisted... a little. I just narrate someone doing something- and if they aren't already doing it, they begin to, just as I said. And they don't usually feel like they've been forced to do it, really- as if they already meant to do it. It did come in handy, once...

I was out with Stanley and saw a young man on his phone ahead- almost felt him more than I saw him. He was using it while walking and not looking up, approaching the curb... I knew somehow, quickly, that he was going to be hit by a car. So I just, spoke. It sounds different when I do it, like my voice comes from somewhere else- according to Stanley, anyway. And I said, **_the young man looked up from his phone just in time to stop on a dime and fall backwards, to sit hard on the sidewalk, and saw the car that had nearly hit him whiz by, inches away._** And he did. I caught up and helped him to his feet, he was very shocked by the whole encounter- and I told him to pay more attention when he was going to cross the street, and moved on. I do hope he's still alright. I have a feeling he is. I think that's it, I've told you about my origins, my abilities, my Stanley-

Oh! I'd forgotten, there's her. I wanted to talk to you about her, as well.

ARCHIVIST

Who?

NARRATOR

I don't think you know her directly but- the kind of person she is.

ARCHIVIST

I'm not following.

NARRATOR

Well, she was sort of called The Curator, and I think she's the thing that created the liminal space I was created in. There's the odd thing that makes doors out of nowhere into nowhere-

ARCHIVIST

Michael?

NARRATOR

Yes, your Michael. My Curator, I'd say- I think she might've been the one to take that poor fellow out of time in the first place, and then my dear Stanley.

ARCHIVIST

Uh. So she's... part of The Spiral?

NARRATOR

Very possibly. I know what your Michael looks like from your thinking, and from what I knew of her, She had long hands like your Michael. Distorted, too... wrong, to be perfectly personlike, you know?

ARCHIVIST

Yes, I uh- I understand what you mean.

NARRATOR

So, that's what you needed, correct?

ARCHIVIST

Uh, yes, that's all. You can leave the way you came in-

NARRATOR

I know how to get out, yes. I almost want to meet your Elias, by the way, see if he knows anything...

ARCHIVIST

Bad idea. Elias isn't...

NARRATOR

Yes I know he's a bit of a b*tch. Is that the word you'd use?

ARCHIVIST

I- Uh- how did you do that?

NARRATOR

Do what?

ARCHIVIST

...You made a sound with your mouth. You were going to say- but, but halfway through-

NARRATOR

Oh! Yes, I don't swear around polite company.

ARCHIVIST

But-

NARRATOR

It was an asterisk to censor it, don't look so surprised. Isn't that a way people censor things?

ARCHIVIST

I- Yes, but you don't- Do it out loud...

NARRATOR

Oh. Oh! I'm sorry! I suppose that was a bit disorienting.

ARCHIVIST

Y-Yes, yes it was. So, that's all?

NARRATOR

Yes I think so. I'll just let myself out.

ARCHIVIST

Thank you for your statement, Mister... wait, you didn't give us a last name.

[DOOR OPENS]

NARRATOR

Have a lovely day, Cheerio!

ARCHIVIST

Wait, you haven't given us your last name-

[DOOR CLOSES]

ARCHIVIST

_(sighing)_ Okay, that was... End recording.

[CLICK]


End file.
